


don't be afraid of tomorrow (just take my hand)

by PoeticPsychopath



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 04:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4464962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeticPsychopath/pseuds/PoeticPsychopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The feeling those six words emit is overwhelming. I have never known a single sentence to hold such power over someone. It feels like I’ve been robbed of the stable ground beneath me, as if someone took it and now here I was, left to fall with no way of landing safely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't be afraid of tomorrow (just take my hand)

**title:** don't be afraid of tomorrow (just take my hand)  
**category:** vampire diaries (tv)  
**genre:** humor/friendship  
**rating:** high-teen  
**warning:** explicit language  
**word count:** 4,541  
**prompt:** “Look me in the eyes and tell me that if the character you hold near and dear to your heart knocked on your window in the middle of the night and said “Drop everything and come with me” you wouldn’t do it you know you fucking would.”

_** don't be afraid of tomorrow (just take my hand) ** _

“I can’t do this.”  
A long sigh escapes my lips as I glance at the time, weariness taking hold of my features. The light of my laptop is becoming unbearably bright, almost blinding, and blinking is only serving to make it worse. _It’s past midnight and I still have to print this stupid essay. I’m not gonna make it much longer like this._ My hand comes up to rub my eyes as I slump back heavily onto the wall behind me.  
_I’ll do that tomorrow before school. I don’t want to wake mom up._ My eyes flicker to where my mother’s sleeping figure rests on her bed, limbs tangled in her comforter and her hair a wild, curly mess. She looks serene for once, a calmness replacing her usual expression of exhaustion. Disturbing her was out of the question. Ah, fuck it. I’ve given up enough sleep for this class, it can wait. I save the file on my laptop before putting it away, a tired smile on my lips as I toss myself on my bed, the pillow hitting me right in the face.  
_How the hell am I gonna learn on less than five hours of sleep?_ I think drowsily before falling into sweet oblivion.  
.  
.  
_Thunk, thunk, thunk._  
“Hmm...” I groan, throwing my arm over my face to block out whatever noise was pulling me back into the real world.  
_Thunk, thunk, thunk._  
It was persistent now, the sound disrupting the peaceful silence.  
“The fuck...?”  
I open one eye in annoyance and am greeted only by darkness. _I swear to whatever the hell is up there that if a freaking monster is in my room I am so done I will kill it with one hand and drift off to sleep with its screams in my ear-_  
_Thunk, thunk, THUNK._  
“For fucks sake it’s one in the morning fuck off.” I hiss, my mind still a foggy, sleep-ridden mess. “Can’t ever sleep… ridiculous… gonna be mad if…”  
_THUNK, THUNK, **THUNK.**_  
“Goddamn it.” I struggle to sit up, arms blindly flailing to grab a hold of something. The curtain by my bed is caught under my fist and I shove it away, still moving uncoordinatedly. A flash of light washes over my room at my actions, letting me see my surroundings momentarily. Everything is the same, so I turn back to the curtain which is fluttering to its original position. For a brief moment, I think I see a dark shape outside my window.  
My eyes widen and I freeze, hoping my sight was still adjusting to the darkness.  
Seconds pass, and I remain in the same position, breath caught in my throat.  
_Okay Sam, so you just saw something outside your window- and you could be a cliché horror movie victim and say ‘oh it was a tree’ or something stupid like that to make you feel better even though there aren’t any trees outside your window or you can check like the badass you are and scream while you do it so your mom can wake up and take care of it for you cause you’re weak and easily startled._  
My mouth twists into a grim smile, internally rolling my eyes at my sense of humor.  
Without further hesitation, I yank back the curtain and roll onto my knees and into a fighting stance, heart stuttering in my chest at the sight that greets my eyes.  
I’ve always wondered if fear can actually be so strong it paralyzes you to the bone. I’ve read stories and seen movies and all that but I had always been curious if that could happen to me. I had never been so frightened that my heart stops and misses a few beats. That all air escapes me and I’m a mess of labored, gasping breaths that hurt my lungs.  
Well what I saw made my blood run cold and scream die on my lips, the curtain slowly slipping from my fingers. I knelt there, arm still frozen mid-air, lips parted- all because there was a freaking man outside my window.  
No, but not just any man.  
_Ian fucking Somerhalder._  
Yeah- I wish I was kidding. That my mind had somehow created an illusion that made me see Ian right outside my window. Maybe then I could be all smooth and open said window while raising an eyebrow- my voice dripping sex and sin with a hint of innocence- _would you like to come in?_  
And he would be all dark and mysterious with burning eyes and kissable lips- _I would rather you came outside._ And then we would have rough sex on the hood of his car.  
Whoops sorry, got a little carried away there.  
_Anyway-_ my mind couldn’t seem to register the fact that a man was outside my window (even the fact that it was _Ian Somerhalder_ for fucks sakes), and what made it even more terrifying was that I lived in the second story of my apartment building.  
So yeah, I think I was justified in stumbling backwards and falling off my bed with an unflatteringly loud wheeze.  
My mom surprisingly did not wake up, despite her track record of being of light sleeper unless dead tired. I had her exhaustion to thank for her not jerking awake and finding me on my ass in an uncomfortable position in the space between my bed and hers.  
I scramble to my feet rather quickly, making sure to remain quiet, and stare at the offending curtain which covers the window that- if you’ve forgotten already- _Ian Somerhalder is behind._ I’m not sure how long I stood there, eyes wide and breathing shallow, gazing at the curtain as if it was going to move aside any second and reveal the person who had so rudely interrupted my sleep. But after a little while, the noise resumed.  
_Thunk, thunk, thunk._  
A feeling of dread fills my chest, and it is so thick and sickening that my stomach churns in disgust. My previous humor vanishes and I am left with only fear. Now, that time had passed, I was sure I was awake. That this wasn’t a dream, hallucination, or anything other than reality. This was really happening, and there actually was a man outside my two story window.  
_Thunk, thunk, thunk._  
I decide that if I stay silent, whatever the fuck is out there will disappear and everything will be okay again.  
But I didn’t really count on the man speaking.  
“Hey- _hey_. You in there, stop hiding.” There was a muffled scraping sound. “I’m not going to do anything. I just want to talk.”  
_Talk my ass._ I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that was code for ‘Let’s see how gullible you are before I murder you.’  
I hold my breath, thinking that if I spoke it would only encourage it. Of course Ian- I mean the man, thing, _whatever_ \- had other plans.  
“I know you’re still in there, ignoring me.” There was a pause as a slight trembling took hold of me.  
_“I can hear your heartbeat.”_  
For a brief moment I wonder if I’m losing my mind. If all the stress I’ve been under had been building up and now I’m being drowned in my own madness.  
Maybe that’s the case. Maybe there is no man outside my window. It’s all in my imagination. My sanity has cracked and here I am at who-knows-what in the morning staring at my curtain trembling like a fool for something that isn’t even there.  
The silence drags on, and I’m suddenly, irrationally, _stupidly_ \- bursting at the seams with curiosity of what would happen if I pulled the curtain aside.  
Would the empty street lit by only a few scattered lamps bring me to reality? Or would there really be a man on the other side staring at me?  
I’m moving before I know it, my actions almost mechanical- as if this was the calmest situation in the world. The soft material of the curtain bunches in my hand and after a slow, steady breath I yank it to the side.  
It was like ripping off a band aid, the shock was quick and gone in a few seconds, leaving only a mark as an indication of what had happened. The only difference was that my mark wasn’t visible.  
My eyes grew wide and if choking on air was a thing then I sure as hell accomplished it. A pitiful squeeze of my faltering heart accompanied my lack of breathing and I swear I saw stars and galaxies and the entire fucking universe-  
Right after I made eye contact with Damon Salvatore.  
Now, I’m not sure how I knew it was Damon and not Ian, like I first thought. As I revealed who had been on the other side of the curtain, some instinct engraved in my DNA was shouting at me in terror that whatever I was facing was not human. It was _not_ human. And my overworked brain immediately threw the word _vampire_ at me, as if that solved all my problems. So for now, for the sake of my quickly unraveling mental stability, Damon Salvatore was outside my window. It was _Damon Salvatore_ and _not_ some demon that crawled from the deepest pits of hell.  
And this was all a nightmare- a _passing_ nightmare that I will surely awake from in a few seconds and-  
“Whoa there, don’t go into shock. I’ve been out here for quite some time and I don’t intend on staying any longer.” Damon shattered what little sense of reality I had in just a couple of sentences.  
Before a response could be formulated, I began to wonder why, for being on the other side of a tightly shut window; _I could hear him so damn clearly._  
Damon’s eyes widen a fraction. “Wait- don’t scream. _Shit,_ stop freaking out.”  
I have never in my life struggled so hard to breathe as I did then. The voice was in my head.  
“Hey hey hey, calm _down._ I only did this so I wouldn’t wake your mom up.” Damon points behind me and I almost burst out crying.  
“You’re over exaggerating. I’m not _that_ good looking.” He pauses, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Or am I?”  
There was a whirlwind of emotions over working my brain and I was coming close to a full fledge breakdown so I don’t blame myself for what I did next.  
With a slightly hysterical grunt the window is pushed aside and my arms are flailing in an attempt to shove the cause for my meltdown to the ground.  
Just as my hand makes contact with leather an iron grip encases my wrist, immediately putting a halt to my attack.  
“Shhh, shhh. I’m not going to hurt you.” Damon purrs softly, and the fight in me disappears, just like that. What once was my adrenaline driven body is now a limp mess of limbs.  
A few beats of silence pass before I realize I’m wrapped in Damon’s arms and on my bed, a gust of cool night air wafting in from my gaping window.  
“See? That wasn’t so bad. You were giving yourself a heart attack for nothing.”  
It takes me a while to find my voice, the shock from earlier rendering me speechless. Through a hazy mind of scattered thoughts I manage to right myself- and suddenly everything is back to normal.  
There’s still a fictional character in my room holding me, and I may have had a mental break of sorts, but at least I’m not a complete and utter wreck anymore.  
“Who the fuck are you?” I would have sounded more convincing if my voice hadn’t cracked in the middle. “Did one of my neighbors smoke pot again? Did I get high because of him? Or is this a dream ‘cause in that case…” I trail off, uncertain of _what_ I would do if dreaming.  
“Don’t you recognize me?” He’s smirking, and I’m suddenly aware of the fact that I’m wearing old mismatched pajamas that are twisted at odd angles, my hair’s sticking up and puffy, and oh yeah- _I’m not wearing a bra._  
“You’re a hallucination. I somehow got high and… and…”  
“Oh _sweetie,_ I’m 100% real.” As if to prove his point, his fingers brush across the skin of my bare arm lazily.  
“Okay first off, don’t touch me- like _ever._ Second, you are a fictional character in my room in the middle of the night. Why? How?” I pull away from Damon quickly, _too_ quickly- I almost roll off my bed in my haste to leave- and stand a few good feet away from him. “And lastly, did you do something to my mom because we’re talking and she hasn’t woken up.”  
I am known for taking weird and completely outrageous things in stride and tonight seems to be no exception. It is either acceptance or ugly crying that will get me nowhere.  
“So many questions, so little time.” Damon sighs dramatically. He leans against my headboard, hands interlocking behind his head casually. I stare in bewilderment.  
“You better answer my questions or I will _cut_ you.” My vision blurring ruins my glare, but it still does its job. At least, I _think_ it does. “I am not opposed to murder especially when you aren’t supposed to exist.”  
Damon’s expression falls and he’s suddenly sitting ramrod straight, making me jump a little in surprise.  
“I was trying to show you how real I am, but don’t fuss- I won’t touch you again. Your skin is rough anyway.” I scowl as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I may be a fictional character to you but I am very much real.” A slow, sexy smiles tugs at his mouth and I’m thrown through a loop. _Fucking hormones._  
At first I think he’s trying to win me over with a suggestive look. That is, until his lips part to reveal a flash of bright white teeth, and with a wink that sends my heart thumping unevenly against my chest, Damon’s face begins to change.  
It’s something so familiar, yet I find it new at the same time. The white in Damon’s eyes drains away for a blood red while his blue iris’ darken until they’re black as night. The skin under his eyes tighten and capillaries appear and spread just as gleaming fangs drop down and press against his bottom lip.  
An involuntary shudder rocks through me, the same instinct as before screaming at me to run. I stupidly lean forward and touch Damon’s fang with the tip of my finger though, marveling at the feel of it, and ignore the way my arm trembles. I had to see that he was really here, in the flesh, and not something my mind conjured up signaling my impending loss of sanity. Waking up in the middle of the night because a fictional character you love is outside on your window sill (which is really thin and I have no idea how the fuck he supported himself on it) making noise and being a scary asshole is definitely not a daily occurrence. Well, I don’t know about you but my guess is it doesn’t happen often.  
The worse part, I admit, is how despite freaking out at first, how calm I am now. _Okay,_ so not exactly calm, but you know what I mean. As my shaky arm settles back onto my side, having already trailed across Damon’s vampire face with enough lingering touches and curious rubbing that it could be classified as creepy, an odd ache begins to take over my chest.  
“Explain.” I whisper, and I’m suddenly so vulnerable and afraid that I’m tempted to make some kind of noise to wake my brother and sister-in-law up, bringing them to my rescue. I didn’t want to be here anymore, my insides twisting uncomfortably. This wasn’t natural- wasn’t _normal,_ and whatever the reason Damon Salvatore was in my room couldn’t possibly be good. He was fake, fictional, in a story and television show. Nothing more, nothing less. I may love him more than it was okay, but _this_ \- this whole ‘hey I’m in your room wanna see how real I am and oh yeah don’t worry this is totally ordinary’ bullshit was going to give me a stroke.  
I think Damon knows I’m starting to question my own mental state because he sits up and looks me dead in the eye- pun intended- with a kind of determination that unsettles me for a moment.  
“Okay- to answer your previous question, I put your mom in a deep sleep to keep her from rudely waking and interrupting our conversation. Couldn’t have that, could we?” Damon smiles, but it drops once he sees my expression. “Speaking of that, you are one heavy sleeper. Making actual physical noise was of no use. You didn’t wake up. I had to enter your mind, which wasn’t easy, by the way.” He makes a face, trying to lighten the mood. But hearing about someone invading your mind and manipulating it isn’t exactly comforting.  
“And before you ask, yes your entire family is under the same thing. I couldn’t risk you screaming and alerting everyone in your home.”  
The sudden thought of my neighbors hearing me call out for help and seeing them shrug it off makes my stomach upset. My neighborhood wasn’t exactly the best. Shouting and gun shots were not uncommon. My cries for help would most likely be ignored or brushed off.  
“Why are you here?” So many scenarios and theories cross my mind, none of them making sense. All I wanted to do was sleep and forget about this entire ordeal. Who needs heart attacks and adrenaline rushes when you can rest peacefully?  
“I’m not sure how to phrase this…” Damon trails off, finger tapping his bottom lip thoughtfully. He gazes at me for a moment before saying, “Just know this is actually happening. I’m really here. This is not a dream and _no_ \- you aren’t going to be admitted into a mental hospital anytime soon.”  
I nod instinctively, wanting to hear his explanation already. I was beginning to lose it again.  
There’s a moment where nothing is said, and the sound of my breathing fills the quiet, small confines that made up my room. Damon’s baby blues look open and honest (since when is Damon Salvatore ever sincere?) which makes the anticipation for what he’ll say build even higher. My heart is thudding loudly, and I’m sure Damon feels suffocated by it. I can’t help it, though. His hesitation is making me anxious.  
And then, with an earnest smile, he speaks. He speaks and I’m so drowned out by the blood rushing through my veins that I don’t hear him. My stuttering breath tells him such, and he repeats himself, almost cautiously.  
“Drop everything and come with me.”  
The feeling those six words emit is overwhelming. I have never known a single sentence to hold such power over someone. It feels like I’ve been robbed of the stable ground beneath me, as if someone took it and now here I was, left to fall with no way of landing safely.  
I’m gaping at Damon, jaw practically on the floor. An awkward moment passes where nothing but an incredulous high pitched squeak escapes my throat. His eyes convey how serious he is and it’s off putting, really. The look of complete and utter sincerity on his face. He was telling the truth, being honest and not making a joke or acting like a dick. He really wants me to just leave everything behind and join him on whatever adventure he has in mind.  
And I was surprised, not by his proposal, or even his goddamn appearance in a world where he isn’t even supposed to _exist_ \- but by my willingness to go. Just as the word that would change my entire future lingered on my tongue, demanding to be said, my mother rolled over, groaning softly.  
A piercing sensation rips through me, and _hell_ \- it burns. I’ve never felt anything like it. Sharp, aching, and _hot._  
I was suddenly thinking of my mom and nephew. The two most important people in my life. I love them more than anything.  
How could I leave them? They need me and I need them. In the morning when I am ready for school, I had to see my little angel asleep in his crib. He would almost always be sleeping, looking so sweet and innocent it hurt. Once at school, I always- _always_ \- message my mom telling her I got there safely, and I did the same when I came home and she wasn’t there yet.  
When I feel like giving up, and everything becomes too much I always think of them and it helps. They aren’t my world- they’re my _universe._ How could I live without my universe?  
As my thoughts become chaotic, I looked at Damon. He seems hopeful, a certain gleam in his eyes that made me curious as to why he wants me to go with him. Why he picked me, why now, and just a general _why._  
But before I could even formulate my question, he was standing up slowly, his blue orbs never leaving me. With a graceful movement, he extends a long fingered hand to me and stares at me from under an explosion of dark lashes. Time stretches on, and on, and on. Until Damon takes mercy on my frozen figure and gently takes my hand in his.  
“I will explain everything later.” He whispers, taking a step back toward the open window. His movements remind me of someone trying to gain the trust of a stray dog. Slow, measured, deliberate. His expression makes it clear of what he intends, watching me like a hawk for my reaction.  
“But my family-”  
“You’ll be able to return, I promise.”  
“This isn’t… permanent?” My mind shouts at me for even considering going with him. It’s a crazy idea, I can’t leave everything behind. I need more information. _What if he’s lying?_  
“Not unless you want it to be.” Damon smiles softly, and I briefly wonder if this was even the real him. I don’t recall Damon Salvatore ever being kind to someone on his own free will.  
My breathing escalates, the decision already being made in my heart. It was just waiting for my mind to catch up.  
“You’ll be able to see your family again. This isn’t goodbye.”  
I love my family, I really do. My mom is my rock, my support. My nephew is my hope, a reason to keep going. My brother is changing, slowly with occasional backtracking but still. And my sister-in-law is… well she’s different than when she first moved in with us, in a good way, of course.  
But one look at Damon, the first fictional character I ever fell in love with in the most bittersweet of ways, and I am a goner. The mature adult in me melts away, revealing my inner impulsive teenager who wants nothing more than to run away. And who better to run away with than Damon Salvatore?  
It is reckless and careless and irresponsible. But I did it anyway because I am high on adrenaline and love and the prospect of something other than the dull world I live in.  
My hand tightens around Damon’s, the two of us sharing a small, giddy grin together. His eyes brighten as he realizes what my actions mean, letting out a quiet laugh.  
“You won’t regret this.”  
“I… I hope not.”  
Damon hops on my bed, not letting me go, and places one foot on the section where my window glides into place.  
“Wait!” I call out, startling both Damon and myself. “I… can I grab a few things? I’m in my pajamas and… well… you know.”  
Another grin breaks out across Damon’s features. “Of course. Just don’t take too long.” He smirks, wiggles his eyebrows, and lets me go.  
In a rush of movements I grab one of my mom’s bags and fill it with things I want to take. Soon it’s full and I’m grabbing a change of clothes (and bra) and going into the privacy of my bathroom.  
When I emerge, my heart starts to pound wildly. The familiar rush of heart flows through me and I try to calm myself before I end up aggravating my condition. I was not in the mood to have my night ruined by it.  
Damon turns to look at me and I just stare at him, struggling to find the right words to speak.  
_Oh god, I really fucking hope this isn’t a dream. I don’t want to wake up suddenly and have that familiar pain clenching at my heart. That feeling that always appears when I wake to find the happiness I found was in a dream. I wouldn’t be able to handle it._  
I fumble with my bag as I crawl on my bed toward Damon, who is on the window ledge. When I reach him, I put the strap over my head and on my shoulder, the bag pressing against my opposite hip.  
Damon watches me and gives me a small smile, taking my hand and pulling me up to where he’s crouching. The street is dark and empty, and the distant sound of a train can be heard. I grip onto Damon’s leather covered arm as I step onto the window ledge, adopting a similar position as him. There is very little room, forcing us to practically mold together. I scan the ground below us warily, knowing that if I fell it wouldn’t be too bad- it _is_ just the second story- but not keen on finding out for myself either.  
“Are you ready?” Damon’s breath brushes against my forehead awkwardly, and I let out a quiet laugh.  
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”  
“Great. Now, hold onto me tight.” Damon somehow embraces me within the small space, grinning when I bump my elbow on the wall. When we’re as close to comfortable as we’re gonna get, he tells me to close my eyes.  
“Why?” I breathe, my panic beginning to bubble under the surface. _What is he planning?_  
“Just do as I say.” Is all he responds with.  
I lick my lips, swallow thickly, and let my eyelids droop down until all I see is black. My chest is heaving from my attempt to calm my nerves, and I tell Damon to hurry up when he hesitates.  
“Do you want to know what’s going to happen?”  
His words frighten me, making a muscle in my arm jump.  
“Is it going to hurt?” It’s the first thought that comes to mind. My pain tolerance is low and the very thought of it makes me feel queasy.  
Damon shakes his head. “Of course not. You’ll just feel a falling sensation.”  
“Alright.” I want him to get it over with. His prolonging of the inevitable is only serving to worsen my anxiety.  
And just as his feet leave the window sill, and time seems to go still, I can hear the last sentence I manage to utter echoing in my ears as we fall.  
“I can do this.”

**Author's Note:**

> _So, I’m not entirely sure what the hell happened while writing this. It’s an idea that’s been floating around in my mind ever since I read that tumblr text post (prompt). I just hope it was worth the time I spent writing, editing, procrastinating, and re-writing. I feel this story ended in the right place and continuing it would turn out horrible, thus this will remain a one-shot. I’m pretty proud of the outcome, and I hope you agree with me. Also, if you’re confused on whom the main character is, it’s me. And no, I don’t really curse that much out loud in real life. I only tend to do it when I’m exhausted and angry._   
>  _This couldn’t have been possible without my amazing beta, Andy ( twentyoneunlitpilotss ), who helped me with so much. She made Damon more like, well Damon, and not a shitty version of him. She also, the lovely angel, helped me in keeping my motivation up. Without her, this fic would have never seen the light of day and would’ve consequently stayed on my laptop until I deleted it. So thank you, Andy. I really appreciate the support and help. And also, thank you to all who read this! Please leave your feedback/constructive criticism if possible. It would make me really happy if you did!_


End file.
